


Rescued

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Series: Rescued [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Light Angst, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6044986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pregnant woman in need of help finds a special place in Bofur's heart and home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rescued

Voices pierced the blackness that surrounded you. 

“She’s breathing.” 

“Oh, Mahal, she is with child. Oin!” 

“Here, lad. Stand back.” 

A hand gently pushed your hair back from your forehead and you felt something cold and wet on your skin, trickling down your temple and into your ear. 

“Only a scratch,” the voice sounded relieved. “The blood made it look worse than it is.” 

You slowly opened your eyelids, blinking against the glare of the morning sun, and saw a face swim into focus. The face was craggy and sharp-eyed, but kind, with a mane of gray hair and an elaborately braided beard. Its owner was dabbing carefully at your head with a wet cloth. Your first instinct was to try to push yourself up on your elbows, but the dwarf, as you now recognized him, patted your shoulder. 

“Just lie still, lassie. You’ve had a blow to the head, and there’s no telling how long you lay in the boat.” 

The boat. Memories began to flood back to you. Flames, smoke, screams, taking shelter anywhere you could find, then a jolt, shimmering flecks of white light before your eyes, and blackness. 

“I hid in the boat…” you whispered hoarsely, “the dragon.” 

“Probably saved her life,” said another dwarf who knelt beside you, golden-haired, with a handsome, resolute face. “The boat drifted and carried her away from the wreckage of the town.” 

“Carried her all the way across the lake,” added his dark-haired companion, sounding concerned. 

The dwarf with the braided beard, having asked your name and age and a handful of other questions to determine how clear-headed you were, had begun to press very gently on your belly. “How many months gone, dear?” 

“Five,” you answered. 

He nodded, looking satisfied. “Plenty of movement from the child, I believe you will both be just fine.” He turned to you with a reassuring smile and helped you to gingerly sit up, your head throbbing.

Yet another dwarf, whose warm, hazel-brown eyes looked kindly on you from under a funny, floppy hat, offered you a skin of water, from which you drank gratefully as he sat by your side. As you did so, you overheard snatches of conversation between the two younger dwarves, who had removed themselves a short distance away. 

“…cannot go all the way back to Laketown…” 

“No, but we can’t leave her here, either…” 

“What will Thorin say?” 

“…don’t even know that he is alive…” 

They spoke more quietly amongst themselves for some time before seeming to come to a decision. Walking back to where you sat on the lakeshore, the blond dwarf addressed you. “We’ll have to take you with us to Erebor. We have need to reach the mountain quickly. But I give you my word that we will return you to your people as soon as possible.” 

“Thank you,” you said meekly, “it is good of you to concern yourselves with my safety.” 

“I am sorry,” his tone became softer, less businesslike, as he bent closer. “I do not like the thought of causing your family needless grief.” 

You shook your head, saying quietly, “I have no family to speak of.” 

The dwarf frowned. “The child’s father…” 

Your cheeks burned, and your gaze fell to the pebbles on the ground beside you. “Long gone.” 

The floppy-hatted dwarf cleared his throat, getting to his feet. “Well, we’d best be moving on…can you stand, lass?” He held out his hand to help you up, reaching with a strong arm to clasp your shoulders when you swayed a bit. After giving you a moment to get your bearings and another drink, the little party headed slowly toward the Lonely Mountain. 

As you walked, the dwarf with the hat talked cheerfully to you. His name was Bofur, he said, and the gray-haired healer was called Oin. The two younger dwarves were brothers…Fili was the name of the fair one, and Kili was the dark. Or perhaps it was the other way around? Bofur told you about his own brother, Bombur, who had already gone to the mountain with the rest of the company of dwarves. His lighthearted manner and amusing stories took your mind off of your headache and made you smile for the first time in days, and you were grateful for his companionship on this strange new adventure. 

“What did you do in Laketown?” Bofur asked. 

“I had a place in the Master’s house,” you answered, “cleaning, laundering clothes, a bit of cooking, that sort of thing. Luckily they didn’t turn me out when…well…” you trailed off, self-consciously placing a hand on your stomach. 

His expression was sympathetic. “What happened to the lad?” he asked, in a low voice. 

“He was – how did he put it? – ‘ill-suited to the responsibilities of fatherhood,’” you said, with a bitter laugh. “I haven’t seen him since the day I told him.” 

Bofur shook his head disapprovingly. “Shameful…I’m truly sorry for it,” he said firmly. “You deserve better. Any woman does.” 

“Thank you, Bofur. You are very kind.” You met his eyes with a shy smile, and he smiled warmly in return. 

Even in ruins, Erebor was majestic on a scale you’d never dreamed of. The cavernous chambers and walkways of dizzying height were a stark contrast to the crowded piers and cramped houses of Laketown. Bofur and his companions were overjoyed to find the rest of their friends and family alive, and the other dwarves were kind and welcoming to you, despite their whispered concerns about the behavior of their leader. Eager to repay the dwarves for their protection, you quickly settled into a routine of helping Bombur prepare meals, washing dishes, mending clothes, being useful anywhere you were able. 

As the days wore on, there was worrisome talk of war, and of armies massing outside the Gate, and something the dwarves called gold sickness, but you found that the one constant in your new circumstances was Bofur. He always found time to help you in the kitchen, or carry a heavy basket of clothes to the washing tub for you, or simply ask after your health and the baby’s, and always with a smile, or a song, or a good-natured jest that never failed to cheer you. 

You wouldn’t realize quite how much his presence meant to you until the day of the battle. When Thorin Oakenshield’s victorious army returned to the mountain, the fear that seemed to grip your chest did not release you until you saw a certain, distinctive hat bobbing its way among the group. Relief flooded over you as he approached you, dirty, bloodied, and clearly exhausted, but still with a smile for you. “All right, lassie?” he grinned, his voice hoarse from shouts and battle cries.

You gave a sigh of gratitude and nodded, smiling and impulsively taking his large hand in both of your small ones, seeing a soft light come into his eyes as his calloused fingers clasped yours. Suddenly feeling foolish, you released his hand and quickly excused yourself, saying, “you’ll all need some hot tea and something to eat.” 

A week after the fighting, you were in the kitchen when Bofur came to visit you. Surveying the pile of apples you were preparing to turn into pies, he said, “this looks like a job for me, lass,” cheerfully rolled up his sleeves and reached for a paring knife, settling himself on a stool to peel them for you. You set to mixing ingredients for the crust, stirring the floury dough and rolling it out to a delicate thinness, playfully scolding Bofur every time he helped himself to a slice of the peeled apples you were adding to a large bowl with sugar and spices.

“There’ll be no pies for anyone if you keep eating the filling,” you teased.  


“Just one more, then,” he replied, with a cheeky grin, popping another piece of apple quickly into his mouth, and you shook your head, chuckling and pushing a loose tendril of hair away from your face with the back of your hand. Bofur cocked his head to look at you with amusement.  


“You’ve got as much flour on your face as you have in the pie crust,” he declared, standing up. “Hold still, darlin’.”  


You obediently stopped your work and closed your eyes, a smile playing about your lips as he stepped closer and gently brushed the flour from your forehead. His fingertips lingered on your cheek for the briefest of moments, and you opened your eyes again to find him looking at you with a tender expression that made your heart skip a beat. 

“What is it?” you nearly whispered.

He swallowed hard. “Can I…can I ask you somethin’?”

“Anything.”  


The kitchen door opened with a thud, making you both start, and you looked past Bofur to see the King under the Mountain himself enter the room. “Thorin,” you greeted him, smiling brightly, quickly turning back to your rolling pin, “can I get you something?” 

“No,” he replied, quickly adding, “thank you. I come with good news. There is a caravan leaving the valley in a few days’ time to return to Esgaroth.” You nodded, having heard about the new settlement of the displaced residents of Laketown, and he continued. “I have secured a place for you with them. There are other ladies among them, nursing the wounded from the battle,” he assured you. “They will convey you safely to Esgaroth and to your own folk.”  


“Oh.” You had the strangest sensation that the air in the room had somehow gone flat and lifeless, but Thorin was clearly expecting you to be thrilled with this arrangement, so you rallied yourself to respond appropriately. “I am very grateful to you,” you smiled. “Thank you for looking after me.”   


He returned your smile. “It is the least I can do, in light of all your service to us. You will, of course, be compensated…I will ensure that you are able to make a start in your new home.”

“Again, I thank you for your kindness,” you replied, and with a bow of his head and a friendly clasp of his hand on Bofur’s shoulder, he left the kitchen.  


You looked to Bofur, who had watched the entire exchange silently, and whose expression hovered somewhere between confusion and regret. 

“So…it’s settled,” you remarked, feeling as though you ought to say something.  


“Aye,” he answered quietly.  


You shook your head, as if to cast off the cloud that seemed to have descended upon you. “I’m sorry…you wanted to ask me something…”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said lightly, not meeting your glance. “Nothing important.” With a small sigh, he turned to pick up his coat from the chair where he’d laid it. “Well…I’d best be going. The lads could probably use another pair of hands in the forges.” He gave you a jaunty salute. “I’ll be seein’ you.”

You nodded. “Thank you for your help, Bofur.”

He paused, with a wistful smile. “Always a pleasure.”

You returned to your task, finding yourself suddenly unable to think of anything else but those kind brown eyes and the cheery smile that would brighten your days no more.

The day of your departure arrived, and you stood at the massive Front Gate of Erebor with a pack that held your meager belongings, which now included a generous pouch of gold from the treasury, some healthful herbs from Oin, and even a tiny sweater that Ori had knitted for your baby. As you awaited the arrival of your escort, you felt a light tap on your shoulder and turned to see Bofur. He smiled, though there was unmistakable sadness in it, and pressed something into your hand. You looked down to see a small horse, carved of wood and polished to a shine, mounted on tiny wheels. 

“Just something I made…for the little one,” he said softly. 

“Bofur, thank you. For everything,” you said, swallowing the last syllable as you struggled to keep your voice steady. You turned, looking over the valley and trying unsuccessfully to blink back your tears, but you suddenly felt his fingers gently grasp your wrist. You looked back at him, his eyes searching your face as he spoke, urgency in his tone. 

“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “Stay with me.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Marry me.” 

 Your own breath caught in your throat. “What?” 

“Hear me out,” he continued, taking your hands in his, “I know we haven’t known each other so long, and I haven’t properly courted you, but…” he sighed. “The truth of it is, I love you, lass. I do. It’s like the sun goes out of the sky when I think about never seein’ you again. You’re kind, and beautiful, and patient, and smart as a whip…and you laugh at my jokes.” Here you giggled brokenly through your tears, and he laughed with you before growing serious again. “I know we enjoy each other’s company, and if you think maybe you could grow to love me…well, there’s marriages been started on less than that.” 

His words made your heart feel as though it was soaring, but it was just as quickly weighed down again. “But, Bofur,” you dropped your eyes from his affectionate gaze, shaking your head, “I’m going to have a child…” 

“…that I will raise, and love, as my own,” he smiled sweetly, gently lifting your chin with his fingertips. “And surround with a pack of brothers and sisters,” he added, with a soft chuckle, bringing his hand to cradle your cheek as his thumb wiped away a fallen tear. “So,” he asked hopefully, “what do you say? Will you take my hand?” 

You placed your hand over his, leaning into his touch, a smile slowly creeping across your face. “Yes,” you whispered. 

“Yes?” he grinned. 

You laughed aloud. “Yes!” 

Bofur gathered you into his arms and whirled you around, making you laugh still more. He set you on your feet again and looked into your eyes, his gladness turning to delighted surprise as you took his face in your hands to softly, shyly press a kiss to his lips, resting your forehead against his when you parted. 

“You won’t regret it,” he promised, lovingly stroking your hair. “I’ll live to make you happy.”

“You already have,” you smiled.

His face was joyful as he picked up your pack and took your hand in his. “Let’s go tell the others the good news,” he said, “and tell Thorin he can send that caravan on its way.” With a grin, he led you back through the Gate into Erebor. 

You were home.


	2. Home for Yuletide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur gives his son a special Yule gift.

The scent of gingerbread wafted through the house along with the sound of childish giggles. Chuckling yourself, you brushed flour from your hands and looked to the cozy sitting room to watch your son’s chubby cheeks plump with laughing smiles as he dangled a wooden rattle within the reach of his baby brother where he lay in a snug basket, eliciting delighted coos and grunts of effort from the little one.

Candles guttered with a sudden draft as the door opened to admit Bofur, his face lighting up with a cheerful smile upon seeing you. He carried a box in his hands, which he quickly set down just inside the door to turn his attention to little Calur, who had abandoned the rattle to the baby’s grasping hands and jumped up eagerly to greet his father.

The man who had sired your son was a distant memory to you and entirely unknown to the boy, a shadowy figure who had faded into insignificance when Bofur took you into his heart and his home. You had become a wife and a mother in quick succession, and it was Bofur who had bent close to your belly to speak affectionately to the baby within, had held your hand while you labored to bring him into the world, had patiently walked the floors with the wailing newborn in the small hours of the night, crooning soft lullabies to soothe him to sleep. Bofur had been all the father your child had ever needed or wanted, and even four years on, it warmed your heart to see Calur leap joyfully into his outstretched arms.

“There’s my boy!” Bofur grinned, scooping Calur up to settle the child on his hip. “Have you minded your Amad today?”

“Aye, Adad,” Calur vowed, and Bofur nodded proudly.

“‘Course you have, there’s a good lad.“ He kissed the boy’s cheek and walked to look into the basket where his younger son happily mouthed his rattle. “And how about your brother? He behavin’ himself?”

Calur looked doubtful, wrinkling his small nose. “He cried a lot.”

Bofur laughed pleasantly. “Well, that’s how he talks to us, isn’t it? When he’s a big lad like you, you can help him learn his words.”

Bofur set Calur down, ruffling his hair, and turned to you, drawing you close with an arm around your waist. “And how do you fare, my beauty?”

“Very well,” you smiled and leaned to greet him with a kiss, adding, “happier now my husband is come home to me.”

He chuckled, stealing one more kiss before looking back to the boy standing at his feet, bestowing a mysterious smile on you both.

“Calur, lad, why don’t you have a look in that box by the door?”

You gave Bofur a questioning glance, but he responded with only a wink and a quick squeeze of your waist with his arm. Calur approached the box with curiosity that turned to a gleeful gasp as the furry head of a soulful-eyed brown puppy peeked over its top.

“It’s a dog!” he cried, as Bofur beamed. “A dog, Amad, it’s a dog! Adad, can we keep him?”

Bofur went to kneel beside the box, reaching to scratch the puppy’s ears. “I found him outside the Front Gate, shiverin’ in the cold…looks like he’s missed some meals, but he’s a scrappy little fella, and sure I thought of my boy at home, and how he might like to have a dog of his own for a Yule gift.”

Calur threw his arms around Bofur’s neck with fervent words of thanks, and the swelling of your heart brought happy tears that you wiped with your apron as you moved to the stove to heat some milk for the puppy’s first meal in his new home.

You tucked your firstborn into bed that night with his puppy beside him, already lulled to sleep on the woolen blanket by the contentment born of an abundance of cuddles and a bellyful of warm milk. With a last kiss to Calur’s forehead, you blew out the lantern and closed the door, rejoining Bofur in the sitting room where he waited for you to come to bed yourself.

As always, Bofur smiled, and opened his arms to you, and you went gladly to his embrace, clasping him with perhaps more gratitude than ever.

“Do you know that _you’re_ the best gift I’ve ever had?” you murmured, smiling, against his cheek.

He leaned back, looking fondly into your face as he stroked your hair. “It’s me who’s the lucky one,“ he answered, “comin’ home to you and our little lads…almost have to pinch myself, some days, to be sure I’m not just dreaming.”

You pressed your lips to his, softly. “I love you.“

“And I love you, my lass,” he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. “Happy Yule.”


End file.
